You Are Standing in Front of Me and I Still Miss You
by auralime
Summary: Set six months after the end of Part 5, Fugo has rejoined his friends. Everyone is happy to have him back but Fugo's struggling to feel like he fully belongs. He's also surprised how much Trish has changed and opened up to the rest of the group. Through their Stands, the two catch up and learn more about each other.
1. Stands

This is a birthday gift for my friend, Sarah ( semercury), who loves Fugo and FugoTrish.

* * *

"Fugo, what does your Stand look like?"

Fugo jumped at the sound of Trish's voice. His world had been so consumed by the illegible scribbles Narancia left on his latest math quiz that he didn't notice when she entered the study. All of Narancia's answers were wrong, it was obvious he didn't even try this time, and Fugo had been debating whether his friend's education would be better left in the hands of professionals.

"My Stand? It's…" Fugo frowned, searching for the right words to describe it. Purple Haze's appearance humiliatingly represented the worst parts of himself that Fugo tried and often failed to keep hidden. Its mouth was sewn shut, a constant reminder of the anger regularly boiling within him, suppressed and gagged. Yet the Stand drooled freely as if no matter how much he swallowed the ugly thoughts crawling up his throat, some of it was bound to drip out of him. Its hands held deadly viruses and as some sick cosmic joke, the thing looked to be dressed with the patterns of a harlequin jester. Whenever Fugo looked at Purple Haze, he was reminded of the joke that was his life. After noticing Trish's curious, almost shy expression while she patiently waited for an answer, it somehow didn't seem appropriate to tell her all of this. Though, how could he describe it any better? Everyone on the team was afraid of Purple Haze, including himself.

Fugo's eyes dropped to the floor as he thought back 3 years ago when Purple Haze first appeared. He hadn't made it past Polpo's prison guards, who had quickly confiscated the lighter. Panic overtook him as his future working with the kind Mr. Buccellati was snuffed out with the lighter's extinguished flame. Fugo had never failed a test in his life but he had failed this one within minutes. He had panicked, jumping on a guard and ripping the lighter out of their hands. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was trying to run out of the prison while reigniting the lighter. Fugo woke up with puddles of bubbling flesh a few feet away and the guards nowhere to be seen. A monster stood above him, foaming at the mouth and leering over Fugo's trembling body.

"Earth to Fugo!" Trish sung with a smile in her voice.

"It– it's purple…" Fugo decided a simple description was best.

"It's purple..." Trish repeated, her voice dropping low in dissatisfaction. "I could have guessed that from its name. What else? I've seen everyone else's Stand but yours. Could you bring it out?"

"No, it's dangerous." Fugo quickly said.

"Why? Does it go berserk?"

"I can control it fine. Mostly," he added the last word quietly. "But there are capsules on its hands. If one accidentally breaks and you're too close, there's nothing I can do to stop you from dying."

"What if I stand really far away?" Trish asked, moving to the other side of the study for emphasis. She cupped her hands over her mouth and acted like she was speaking from a long distance as she shouted, "Is this far enough?"

Fugo fought the smile twitching his cheeks. This was a serious subject, but he was caught off-guard by how much Trish had changed from the quiet, aloof, and bossy girl they first met. When Fugo rejoined Passione months after Diavolo was defeated, he noticed how much warmer and open Trish had become. He thought Trish would treat him with the same cold indifference as she did before, but she'd been friendly and almost playful. The other day, Fugo caught Trish laughing loudly with Mista over a lame joke before they descended into a playful slap fight. The sight nearly bowled Fugo over from shock. However, regardless of her warmer attitude, Fugo felt awkward around her. She had spent the most important, life-changing events of her life with Buccellati's gang. Everyone fought by her side and successfully defeated her father. Everyone except Fugo.

He hated to admit it, but he felt a bit jealous of the other boys as if he needed to catch up with them. It was stupid because developing friendships was never a competition. Yet he had become especially jealous of Narancia, who now had some sort of Best Friends Forever relationship with Trish.

"Um, hellooooo?" Trish called from across the room. Fugo was acting spacey today and Trish suspected it was because he was bored of her. She didn't want to admit that she cared how much this upset her but she still stomped one of her boots on the ground to emphasize her frustration.

Fugo blinked, returning to the present. "Sorry, I got lost in thought."

"So? Is this ok? Am I far enough away to be safe?" she pressed. She then pouted and looked away. "It's just, the other day you saw Spice Girl when I made those stale baguettes soft. We've all seen each other's Stands, but I haven't seen yours. It doesn't seem fair." She tried to keep her voice light-hearted as if the subject didn't matter much to her, but she couldn't hide the impatience and disappointment in her tone. Fugo wasn't sure why this was so important to her.

"It drools a lot. So don't complain if it's ugly," Fugo sighed as he shifted uncomfortably, wondering if Trish would think differently of him after seeing the disgusting physical manifestation of his soul. What if she found him repulsive after seeing it?

"I'll bet he's perfectly fine-looking!" Trish said, flashing him a sudden smile.

In an instant, Purple Haze stood at Fugo's side, drooling heavy between each of its labored breaths. Fugo failed to suppress the cringe on his face.

"Oh! It is very purple," Trish said. "He matches your eyes."

It was silly to be embarrassed just because Trish remembered a small detail about him like the color of his eyes, but Fugo still felt heat rise to his face. . "Well, you saw it, is that all you needed?" he didn't like how stiff his words sounded.

"Wait, don't make him disappear yet!" Trish said as Spice Girl materialized at her side.

"What are you doing?" Fugo frowned as Spice Girl slowly approached. The way the pink Stand moved and how its eyes wandered in directions where Trish was not looking made it appear semi-conscious. It was unnerving. Spice Girl held eye contact with Fugo as she passed while Trish's gaze was locked onto Purple Haze.

"I have an idea," Trish said quietly in thought. "You said if the capsules on your Stand's hands break, it'd be dangerous, right?"

"Right…" Fugo was now avoiding eye contact with the unblinking Spice Girl, which caused him to not notice when the pink Stand was close enough to gently poke Purple Haze's hands. "Stop!" Fugo and his Stand jerked backwards when he felt the light touch.

"Sorry," Trish shrunk a little after seeing the panicked look on Fugo's face. "But now they're too soft to break!" she smiled apologetically. "Even if Purple Haze tries to break them, they'd just stretch like rubber!"

Fugo looked at his Stand's knuckles curiously. After making sure they were both at a safe distance, Purple Haze cautiously and gently touched one of the capsules. It easily bent from the slight pressure.

"This is… interesting, but what's the point of this, Trish?" Fugo frowned. Letting Spice Girl experiment and play with Purple Haze wasn't safe.

Trish stepped closer, "It should be safer to get closer now, right?"

"I guess?" Fugo said. "I would still be careful beca-" he fell silent when he felt two hands holding the sides of his face. He looked over to see Spice Girl grabbing Purple Haze's head in her hands. Now he was burning red.

"The drooling is gross, but if you look past that, he's kind of cute," Trish said as she peered closer to it. "Have you ever seen the anime Gatchaman? The visor on his helmet looks just like theirs. Like the head of a bird. He even has a cape like the characters."

Fugo struggled to find something to say. He was thankful Trish was so focused on Purple Haze that she couldn't see how red his face was. "Narancia once described Purple Haze's visor as a 'sneeze guard.'"

Trish laughed and they sounded like little bells in Fugo's chest. His shoulders relaxed.

"Maybe he drools so much because his mouth is bound," Trish thought aloud. "Can we free him?"

"I've never tried," Fugo admitted. "Purple Haze often gnashes its teeth and makes these horrible inhuman groans. They'd surely be louder if he was free and no one wants tha-" Suddenly, he instinctively slapped his hands to his mouth when he felt something pulling on his lips. He turned to see Spice Girl curiously hooking a finger around one of the "threads" sewing Purple Haze's mouth shut.

"Oh!" Trish said in alarm once she noticed what Spice Girl was doing. The pink Stand suddenly jumped back to float next to Trish. "She sometimes does and says things on her own. Things I'd already be thinking about, granted, but sometimes they're things deep down that I don't realize…" Trish paused thoughtfully before continuing. "She's helped me learn a lot about myself. Especially things I've suppressed."

"Your Stand can talk?" Fugo asked, amazed.

"Yeah, she usually doesn't say much, which is a good thing. When she gets going, she's rather… spicy," Trish laughed. "I think it's because of everything I'd pent up on our journey. I was angry about a lot of things, but I wasn't able to say anything to anyone for a long time. The mafia took me away before I could even bury my mother, Pericolo handed me over to a bunch of strangers (no offense), the realization of who my father was and what he wanted to do with me, and to top it off, Buccellati refused to tell me anything and he had ordered all of you to not speak to me, either. I was trapped, had no one to talk to, and it felt like a dam was about to burst within me. My rage came out when Spice Girl first appeared. I had no idea just how... much... was inside me. Even after everything was over, sometimes Spice Girl would say something I was trying to hide. It can be embarrassing especially when she starts cursing up a storm," Trish bit her lip and grinned sheepishly.

"Mine would probably curse, too, if he could talk," Fugo said, not wanting to hear what Purple Haze would have to say.

"He does look pretty upset," Trish said in mild amusement. Then a serious look crossed her face. "Fugo, are you ok?"

Fugo blinked. "Yeah, why do you ask?"

Trish pointed to Purple Haze, who was hyperventilating.

"Sorry, I'll put him away," Fugo said quickly.

"No, wait," Trish said. "Our Stands represent our souls and our state of minds, right? Hiding your Stand isn't going to change anything."

"It'll prevent it from killing us both."

"You said you had control over your Stand!"

"I do, but…" Fugo thought back to all the times in the past when he'd lost control of his emotions. He was the type of person who would look perfectly pleasant for months, brush off all his problems coolly, and then explode at the smallest provocation due to all his unaddressed feelings bursting from the pressure cooker of his mind. Fugo had been learning healthier outlets for expressing himself like communicating his frustrations when they arrived instead of burying them, but the positive emotions that were currently short-circuiting Purple Haze was new. Fugo didn't want to take any chances.

"Since you're worrying so much about Purple Haze causing an accident…" Trish trailed off as she sent Spice Girl around the room to punch the floors, walls, ceiling, and furniture. Everything became soft and Trish lightly bounced in place on the squishier floor.

"DUDE!" a shout from the hallway made the two jump. Narancia wore a smile that was too big for his face as he gawked at the soft room. The legs of Fugo's desk had disappeared into the floor, the windows were fit for a funhouse, and the softened bookshelves were slumping against the wall like an old man falling asleep in a plush chair. Narancia's face shone when he noticed the way Trish was bouncing in place. "Trish, did you use Spice Girl on the floor? That's fuckin rad!" Before Trish could reply, Narancia took a running leap into the room and belly flopped into the middle of the carpet. He laughed as the floor embraced him with the warm greeting of a soft bed.

A giggling Trish hopped next to Narancia as Spice Girl further modified the floor making it bouncier. She aggressively bounced up and down beside Narancia, causing him to have difficulty getting back onto his feet as his flailing body bounced from her reverberations.

"Stop jumping, stop it!" Narancia laughed. Trish bounced even harder.

Fugo awkwardly sat on his desk, which had melted into what now looked like a beanbag chair sinking under his weight. He watched the two with a twinge of jealousy seasoned with a pinch of guilt. Narancia was such a free spirit, of course it'd be easy for him to let loose and have fun with Trish without thinking too deeply about it. It wasn't as if Fugo couldn't cut loose himself, but something was holding him back. He, Narancia, and Mista in the past would break the tension after some particularly soul-crushing missions by dancing together. How many hours had they practiced that one dance before the three were completely in sync? It was silly, but it was a fun activity the three did together that helped take their minds off some of the things they saw and… did. But now he felt weirdly shy, awkward, and too aware of his arms and legs. He tried leaning casually against the melting desk, but was painfully aware how not-casual his "casual" lean felt and must look. He tried crossing his arms over his chest but that felt stiff and unnatural. He watched Narancia unleash a playful roar while tackling Trish's ankles. She screamed and toppled over him.

Narancia scrambled to his feet and tried to gain revenge against Trish by preventing her from getting back onto her feet like she had done to him, but Narancia's first bounce caused him to sink into the floor all the way up to his chest.

"NO FAIR!" There was laughter in Narancia's protest. "You made the floor too soft right below me!"

Fugo felt bad for being jealous. He wanted to be as close to Narancia as he used to. He wanted to be better friends to Trish. The group had welcomed him back as if nothing had changed and Fugo did his best to act like everything was normal. Nothing was preventing Fugo from fully returning to the group besides his own guilt.

"Fugo, help!" Narancia called while he wiggled violently in a vain attempt to get free from the floor that had hardened around his body.

"You'll never free him from my deadly trap!" Trish playfully grinned in a Disney villain manner, inviting Fugo to join the game.

Fugo laughed as he began approaching the two. "Don't worry, Narancia, I'm coming!"

Trish aggressively bounced towards Fugo but tripped over the rubber books that had fallen out of the distorted bookshelves. She instinctively reached out and grabbed onto Fugo's jacket to steady herself and one of Fugo's arms closed around her waist to catch her.

Their faces close, they stared at each other for a beat before Trish jumped back, her face matching her hair. Embarrassed, she spun away from him.

"What's up with your FACE?" Narancia shouted at Trish.

"Shut up!" Trish shouted back. "I'm going to return the room to normal now, so…." Trish reached down, grabbed Narancia's head, and began pulling him out of the floor.

"Ow ow ow Ow! Watch it!" Narancia complained until his arms were free, enabling him to pull the rest of his body out of the hole himself. Trish returned the soft Narancia-shaped cast in the floor back to normal while he pouted over everything returning to its boring, flat, hard surface. Then his eyes lit up. "Do you think Giorno would turn the living room into a pit of vines? It'd be like a ball pit but with noodles!" Without waiting for a response, Narancia scrambled to his feet and dashed out of the room.

Fugo stopped to pick up the bookshelf that was leaning precariously against a wall. Trish moved to help him.

"I had fun," Fugo smiled at her. Trish turned away, but he caught the smile on her face, too.

Once they were finished returning the rest of the room to normal, Fugo walked to his desk but stopped when he saw Purple Haze and Spice Girl sitting side by side on top of it. He had forgotten about them.

"I think she likes him," Trish giggled. Fugo noticed the way she kept glancing in his direction and looking away.

Fugo took a deep, slow breath to calm his fluttering chest. "Hey, Trish…" She looked up at him and he was shocked by how green her eyes looked in this light. "I've, uh, been thinking about how you said Spice Girl's behavior is a like a release from your suppressed thoughts and feelings. When I was young, when… things… became too much, I'd find someplace quiet away from other people to just scream. Let it all out. Maybe you should try it."

"But everyone would hear me and rush in thinking I was being attacked by a Stand user!"

"Oh no, I mean where there aren't many people. For example, in the middle of a field. One of my favorite spots when I was in college was Campi Flegrei, or the burning fields. Do you know it? It's where the super volcano is and there are a lot of vineyards around it. Sometimes I'd go to the nearby beaches, submerge myself underwater, and scream. That way, you don't alarm anyone."

"Let's go," Trish said.

"Wait, what?"

"You can show me around the place. I'll get my swimsuit. I'll even bring a towel so I won't need your suit to wipe myself off this time," her expression looked serious, but her voice had a cheeky tone to it.

Fugo blinked and suddenly realized he had forgotten to continue breathing. He couldn't believe this was happening and didn't want to assume anything. "Sure, I'll ask if Narancia wants to come, too."

"No, I want it to be just the two of us," Trish said as she walked out of the room.

Fugo wasn't able to see her face and he couldn't decipher her suddenly mysterious tone. His heart beat faster. He decided no matter what happened, this was going to be a fun trip.


	2. The Beach Episode

_Warning: This chapter references anime Fugo's backstory. It doesn't go into detail, but there are a lot of hints._

_I hope you enjoy the final chapter of Fugo's Bizarre Adventure Part UwU._

* * *

"Bruno, can I borrow the car?" Fugo slid into the living room, his socks losing traction on the hardwood floors in his haste.

Bruno didn't look up from the newspaper in his lap. "You're only 16. It's illegal, so no. Take the motorcycle, it's under 125 cc." In Italy, only adults 18 years old and older were legally allowed to drive a car. However, small motorcycles with limited power could be driven by 16 year olds.

Fugo's brow creased in confusion. "You let Giorno take the car all the time and he's the same age as me! Why are you only now concerned about underage driving?"

"Take the motorcycle. There are helmets on the shelves by the tools in the garage." Bruno's voice stayed even and calm.

Fugo grumbled as he stomped into the garage. The car would have been so much more comfortable but instead he's forced to dust off the old motorcycle that probably houses a family of spiders. It hadn't been used in so long, Fugo wondered if it still worked. Luckily, a manual tire pump was also in the dusty corner as Fugo inspected the machine making sure the old thing wouldn't cause his or Trish's untimely deaths. He noticed how small the thing was, too. Ugh, the two of them were going to be cramped. He tried imagining how this was going to work. The only way they'd both fit is if someone was pressed right up against the driver's back. Fugo stood still for a moment staring at the bike as if in a daze. After a full minute, he slowly turned to locate the helmets but tripped over the tire pump. "Fucking hell!" he cursed, not sure if the outburst was out of surprise from the stumble or the upcoming awkward situation he was about to place Trish. Maybe Bruno would change his mind about the car. After all, he had just asked Giorno last week to take the car to pick up groceries! The thought only made him angrier and he kicked the bike pump into the wall.

After Fugo located the two black helmets in the garage, he went to his room to pack his things and change. He wore swim trunks under his ripped jeans for the road. He packed only the bare essentials of sunglasses, a towel, and sunblock. There wouldn't be any room on the bike to carry much else.

He met Trish in the hallway on their way downstairs. He frowned regretfully at the beautifully long flowing sarong around her waist that faded from black to hot pink. "Bad news, Trish. Bruno won't let me drive the car, but he's allowed us to take the motorcycle. For safety, you should probably wear pants for the drive there. At least until we get to the beach."

Trish shrugged, mentioning it was okay, and disappeared back into her room to change while Fugo waited for her downstairs in the living room.

"So, going to the beach, hmm?" Bruno said from behind the newspaper. Fugo noticed Bruno was still staring at the same page he was reading 10 minutes ago.

"Who told you I was going to the beach?"

"Trish told me," Bruno said while peering over his papers. Fugo noticed Bruno's eyes were smiling.

Suddenly, Narancia fell from the ceiling and crashed into the coffee table that sat between the startled Bruno and Fugo. Sticky Fingers materialized momentarily before Bruno realized what was lying at his feet.

"Owww FUCK," Narancia groaned from the bed of splintered wood beneath him.

Bruno and Fugo looked up and saw an apologetic Giorno peering down from a large hole spewing vines. "Narancia, are you ok?" the blond called to his friend.

"Hell yeah, I'm ok! I wanna do that again!" Narancia threw his fists into the air.

"You are not doing that again," Bruno said tersely.

"I'm not doing that again," Narancia pouted as he stood up, rubbing his back. Fugo thought Narancia looked like an old man in that position.

"What happened? I heard a crash!" Trish appeared around the corner, out of breath and buttoning her jeans.

"Giorno made the noodles!" Narancia shouted, victoriously holding up two fistfuls of thick vines. "He didn't want to at first, but I wore him down!"

Bruno sighed. "We'll have to fix the ceiling."

"I can fix the ceiling, Boss," came Giorno's slightly muffled voice from upstairs. He was already gathering the vines he had created so he could weave them back into place and cancel Gold Experience's effects to return them back into the floorboards of his bedroom. That was the plan at least.

"We'd stay to help, but Fugo and I are going to the beach." Trish said as she shuffled closer to him.

Giorno's head reappeared from the hole and Narancia whipped around to stare at the two. Sure enough, the couple was carrying beach towels and sunglasses sat on their heads.

"I WANT TO COME!" Narancia shouted, bouncing up and down on his toes as if he did not just break a coffee table beneath his back.

"We planned to go alone this time," Trish said.

"Wait…. alone? Just the two of you? In your swimsuits… ALONE?" Narancia gasped. "Are you two dating?"

"No!" Fugo barked, but something in him was pleased that Narancia thought they were. Meanwhile, Trish placed her hands on her hips and looked Fugo up and down with a frown.

"Narancia, it's ok," Giorno said, having caught onto what was going on.

"But they're my friends! My best friends! And they're going to the beach without me! What's with this? Why are they excluding me? COME ON, GUYS, I WANT TO COME!"

The emotional intensity of Narancia's pout felt like a thick gas that filled the room. Bruno was pressing two fingers along the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tightly. Trish was eyeing Fugo, who was turning redder by the second as he wondered if this was a date.

"Hey, Narancia," Giorno called from the ceiling. "Come up here. The way you're bent over tells me you hurt your back. While I heal you, I want to tell you something."

Narancia huffed and stomped out a "Fine!" However, the sting he felt from his friends excluding him quickly faded when replaced by curiosity. When Giorno had something to say, it was usually good. As Narancia passed Fugo and Trish, he asked them, "We should all do something together as a group some other time, yeah?"

"Sure! Maybe later today!" Trish smiled. Narancia smiled back and they genially and purposefully bumped into each other while Narancia passed. Giorno nodded to both Fugo and Trish as if he was saluting them before he disappeared.

"Let's go!" Trish grabbed Fugo's arm a little too tightly as she pulled him out of the room.

"Bye, Buccellati!" Fugo called, trying to get a wave in before they disappeared around the corner. With Trish's arm wrapped around his own, he suddenly forgot to ask Bruno again about taking the car.

"Have fun," Bruno called back, staring at the splintered wood and vines at his feet.

* * *

A radiant sun accompanied the motorcycle ride to the beach. Fugo drove and Trish sat behind him with her arms wrapped tightly around his chest. He swore he could hear his heart pounding louder than the engine beneath them. It was going to be just the two of them. Alone. At the beach. What if he fucked up? He always fucks up. Oh god, he was going to fuck up!

There were just enough clouds in the sky and a rainy forecast later in the day that deterred some of the usual crowds. Quite a few people were still on the beach, but there were large patches of open space that was perfect for a couple who wanted a little privacy. The sound of gulls carried on the soft wind made Trish light up. She spent a lot of time on the beaches of Sardinia growing up and there was something about the smell of the salt in the ocean that made her feel relaxed and at home.

After parking their motorcycle, Trish raced onto the sands. She turned and called for Fugo to follow her. He had to jog to catch up to her, his shoes sinking in the sand.

Trish found the a spot in the sand that was the farthest away from other people. She flattened out her beach towel before standing up and stretching while looking out over at the ocean's waves. "This is perfect weather!" Trish chirped.

"This was a great idea coming here today," Fugo agreed. Seeing Trish so relaxed helped calm his own nerves as he became more optimistic about the possibilities of this trip. Just as his mind and heart began to soar, he noticed someone familiar walking down the beach, laughing among a small group of people. Fugo's chest tightened. It was Alvino. They were in the same class Freshman year, taught by the same professor that… Fugo fumbled for his sunglasses, slid them back down onto his face, and busied himself by brushing out all the wrinkles of his beach towel. It had been three years. Fugo wondered if the guy would recognize him. Who was he kidding, of course he would. That scandal left an impact on them all and Alvino had been one of the students to chew Fugo out for "lying" and "trying to destroy a good man's career."

"Ugh, I never liked eating on the beach," Trish's voice snapped Fugo out of his thoughts. "Sand gets everywhere!" she said motioning to the couple a few meters away opening a picnic basket. "As long as they don't take the sandwiches fully out of their wrappers while eating them, maybe it'll be fine, though."

"Yeah, it'll be fine…" Fugo turned his attention on Trish. He had to focus on her. He couldn't let some guy on the beach he hadn't spoken to in three years ruin this moment. However, Fugo's chest still hurt no matter how much he tried to focus on how casual Trish had styled her hair this morning, her long fringe falling into her eyes every time the smallest breeze shuffled past. His mind kept meandering over to walk beside his ex-classmate. Fugo considered asking Trish if she could help him bury him face down in the sand. It could be fun.

"Can you help me put sunblock on my back?" Trish asked while pulling off her jeans. She was wearing a dark pink one-piece bathing suit which opened in the back, sporting a series of complicated-looking straps.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure," Fugo said, glancing over his shoulder and sighing in relief when he saw the group of college students walking away.

"You've been really spacey lately," Trish's legs walked into Fugo's line of sight as she threw her pants at his face. "Anything wrong?"

Fugo pulled the jeans off his head and stared up at her. He took off his sunglasses. Was she teasing him? Was she flirting? She play fought with the other guys all the time, so maybe this was nothing more than platonic. Though, she's never asked any of them out to the beach alone with her before. "Sorry, I've had a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Trish asked as she sat directly in front of him with her back facing him. She pulled the longest strands of her hair away from her neck and tucked it over her shoulder.

Fugo stared before searching for the sunblock he brought. His hands almost grabbed it, but his fingers bumped it and the bottle rolled away. He had to stand up to chase after it. Fuck! He was so nervous! But what was this? WAS THIS A DATE?

Trish peered over her shoulder, satisfied that Fugo now appeared to be overly-concentrating on her back instead of staring off into the distance with the unfocused, glassy eyes of a doll.

"I'll do you now!" Trish turned once Fugo was finished and held out her hands for the bottle. "Unless you're going into the water fully dressed?" she motioned to his t-shirt and jeans.

Fugo pulled off his shirt only after glancing down the beach and no longer spotting Alvino. He berated himself silently to calm down, but a nagging voice in the far reaches of his mind was demanding something of him he couldn't understand. Trish made quick work of his back and she was finished before Fugo had time to delve further into self-loathing.

"Oh! I forgot the finishing touch!" Trish said as she squirted more sunblock into her right hand.

"What finishing touches?" Fugo asked. His answer came when he felt Trish draw a large circle on each of his shoulder blades and then drew what he could only imagine was a smiley face across his lower back. "WHAT are you doing?" There was humor in Fugo's voice as he stood up and spun to grab the bottle away from her.

Trish laughed and ran away into the water with Fugo following her.

They were out pretty far, the water reaching almost to their collarbones before they stopped chasing each other. With the two of them covered and concealed by the ocean, Fugo allowed himself to relax. After splashing each other and competing who could create the biggest wave, Trish sighed contentedly and floated onto her back. "I haven't swum since... well, when we got attacked by this Stand on a plane. When I first got Spice Girl."

Fugo floated beside her, dog paddling and listening.

"The plane broke into pieces and crashed into the ocean. We had to swim to shore. Abbacchio carried the turtle on his head the entire time," Trish giggled, reliving the memory. "You know the headband he wears? The turtle was tucked beneath that. It kept trying to crawl out and ended up leaving scratches on the top of his head."

Fugo had heard pieces of stories here and there of the battles and adventures he had missed. Every time Fugo thought he had heard it all, someone had something new to say. He especially liked learning those small details that were easily taken for granted and forgotten.

"Oh!" Trish jolted upright, her toes touching the soft, cool sand below. "I almost forgot why we were out here in the first place!"

"Honestly, I had forgotten too," Fugo said, wanting to focus more on the comforting oscillation of the waves, the sun poking in and out behind clouds, and the company of a wonderful girl.

"I want to scream!" Trish shouted. "Do you want to scream?"

Fugo pretended to think for a moment. "I could scream," he said in a mock carefree attitude while shrugging. The tightening in his chest from when he saw his ex-classmate still lingered in his chest. Yes, he could definitely scream.

"Any techniques I should know?" Trish asked with a grin as she bobbed up and down in the water, readying herself.

"Only one: don't hold back!" Fugo said as he raised a hand. "On one, two, three…"

The two dove their heads under the water. Fugo could hear Trish let out a small, experimental squeak of a yell and he covered his hands with his mouth to keep from laughing. Then she got into the full mood of the task and Fugo joined her. It felt like all the pain in his chest was being squeezed out. It was like his heart was a towel and someone was wringing it clean.

They both surfaced and Fugo noticed Trish's face was red. "Again!" she said almost breathless. "I don't think I got it all out."

They dove again and this time Trish's voice sounded different. Fugo quieted himself down enough to listen. It sounded like she was screaming out words this time, but he couldn't make out what she was saying between all the bubbles and the incessant sounds of the ocean's movement.

When they surfaced again, Trish looked even more flushed and she sniffled and hiccuped though a smile. "I needed that." She wiped her face with her hands.

"You ok?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, let's float around a while. I need a moment in the peace."

They floated quietly, their ears under the waves as they heard the ambient sloshing and bubbling of the water around them. They swum circles around each other as Trish's breathing slowed to normal. Fugo repeatedly kept glancing back at the beach.

"What's wrong?" Trish's quiet voice melted into the soft song of the wind. "Are you afraid someone will steal the keys to the motorcycle? Don't worry, I buried them in the sand."

"It's not that. There's just someone on the beach I recognize from college. We didn't exactly leave on good terms."

"Ignore them," Trish said as she brushed a wet clump of hair that had fallen over one of her eyes. "Whoever they are, may they always find sand in unwanted places and the seagulls steal their car keys!"

A chuckle rumbled from Fugo's chest. "Trish, you've really changed."

"Have I?" she tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Yes, you've really opened up."

"I thought I was pretty open when I forced you out of your jacket when we first met," she smiled cheekily while swimming closer to him.

Something about her tone made Fugo pause. He couldn't deny the possibility that she might be flirting with him now. It was easier to handle when there was still the possibility it was only platonic. He was happy but his stomach suddenly felt as if it was collapsing from the bottom up. He sunk low into the water so his mouth was covered. He rubbed his arms, curled into himself, and looked away.

Trish noticed his shift in mood and took a step towards him. "Hey…" Concerned, she placed her hand on his shoulder from behind.

Fugo flinched and jerked away from her. He spun to see Trish with her hand partially outstretched as if uncertain whether to step back. Regret stabbed at Fugo's heart. "Sorry, you scared me."

"I'm the only other person here. Who else could have touched you?"

"Stand battles can really mess with you." Fugo rationalized this wasn't technically a lie even if it was being used as a fake excuse for his behavior. Only one other person in his life had ever flirted with him and that memory was best locked away forever. A fire burned in his gut, raging against his own mind for thinking about something so disgusting and relating them to Trish's innocent playful flirtations. "This place just brings back a lot of memories," Fugo added bitterly.

Trish silently stared at Fugo, urging him to continue.

"College was a lonely time for me. I didn't have a lot of friends. I was younger than everyone by quite a few years."

Trish nodded. She had heard from Buccellati that Fugo was a genius prodigy who started college when he was only 13 years old.

Fugo continued, "Most of my classmates were polite enough, but I couldn't relate to them and they couldn't relate to me. The one person who did make me feel understood, who I thought I could relate to… they weren't a good person."

"Do you still feel lonely?" Trish asked.

Fugo looked at her and gave her a small, genuine smile. "No."

Trish returned the grin. "I'm glad. I hope you know we're all glad you're with us. Everyone has noticed how distant you've been, especially Narancia. He misses you. He's told me so."

Fugo bit his lip, suddenly realizing how big of a jerk he's been. Trapped in his own insecurities, he'd been accidentally giving everyone the cold shoulder while his friends have been trying to desperately reach out to him. "I miss him, too." Fugo said while watching a seagull fly overhead. It reminded him of Aerosmith somehow. No, it reminded him of Narancia: cute, obnoxious at times, and highly aggressive around french fries. "I promise I'll make more of an effort to reconnect with everyone. Everything's felt surreal since Bruno became Boss. You've started High School, but you live with us in the large house Bruno has graciously invited us all to live in. The drug trade has been culled and we're still dealing with the aftermath of the mutiny that erupted after Bruno's decision. It's been exhausting but I used to like the distraction because it kept my mind occupied. Only recently have we had the time to relax like this. It leaves a lot of time to think."

Trish nodded. "I'm glad we're able to relax together on this beautiful beach. I could tell you've been stressed."

"I'm thankful everyone's been so gracious to accept me back. They've been too gracious."

"Fugo, you did nothing wrong!" Trish said.

"I know, and everyone's told me that multiple times in their own ways," Fugo took a deep breath and sighed his tense muscles loose. "Again, I'll try harder to reconnect with everyone."

"You could start with me!" Trish's voice was rushed and firm, almost demanding.

Fugo blinked in surprise, but smiled at her confidence, a mixture of respect and admiration stirring within him. This day felt like a dream and the glitter of sunlight dancing on the waves between them was fitting the mood. "You know, I probably know the least about you other than Giorno. Ok, Trish, tell me about yourself." He smiled. He already knew a lot about her familial past and her brief involvement with Passione, but there was still so much he didn't know about her on a personal level.

"Well, I'm a hard worker, I have a track record of always being on time, and I think I'd be a perfect candidate for becoming someone dear to you!" She smiled playfully. After she finished speaking, her laughter faded as she sunk shyly into the water. She kept her eyes on him, gauging his reaction.

"Someone dear to me?" He couldn't tear himself away from the look she was throwing him. He felt the heat of the sun fade off his shoulders as the light ducked behind a cloud cluster. It had been too easy to silently admire her from afar these past few months. He didn't feel worthy to approach her. He had left them. He had left her. Yet here she was dropping hints that she liked him. Even while his mind raged and pounded against his skull demanding he pay attention to his memories filled with fire and ice, he decided to ignore them and be brave. He focused only on this moment. "Trish, you're already dear to me."

A shy smile emerged across her lips. "Really?" she whispered.

She was so cute, Fugo felt his heart might burst. He nodded.

"Prove it."

"Wha-?"

Her little smile stretched wider, turning mischievous as she rose her head from the water. "Tell me what you like about me." She tossed her wet hair over her shoulder.

"Well…" Fugo's heart fluttered into a panic. "You're brave. You're clear on what you want and I admire and appreciate your blunt, brazen honesty." Trish's forward way of speaking was certainly refreshing in contrast to, for example, someone who would lure you into a situation under false pretenses, pretty flattery, false words of platonic and fatherly trust for weeks and months at a time, all while slowly prodding at and pushing your boundaries little by little. Like a chef promising friendship to a little frog in a kettle, while the heat was increased so slowly that the frog didn't realize it was boiling alive until it was too late to escape with its soul still in one piece. Fugo grimaced. It was getting more difficult to ignore his thoughts. He pleaded with himself to please focus on this one good thing in this life. Why must his mind always ruin the good moments by reminding him of everything terrible in this world?

Trish noticed Fugo's pained expression. She frowned in concern, wondering if she was a little too blunt at times. Or maybe someone had lied to him in the past and hurt him deeply. He continued before she could say anything.

"You're also resilient. I heard from the others what you were like in that final battle. How you defied your father even in the face of death. Yet I've also seen the distant look in your eyes at breakfast. Your defenses are down in the mornings when you first wake up."

Trish blushed.

"Whenever anyone even hints at your father, your expression hardens but you don't cry out. You'll speak about what's bothering you, but you have a lot of control over your emotions even under immense stress. You're really cool, Trish."

Trish's eyes shone and pink continued to flutter across her cheeks. She had been anticipating the usual kinds of comments she'd receive from guys who tried to flirt with her: 'You're pretty! You're hot!" Those things were nice to hear and there was nothing wrong with those kinds of comments, but they were generic compliments that didn't mean much to her considering there were pretty and hot people everywhere. It was nice to hear something that was actually about her as an individual. Something unique that someone had noticed. "Oh," she shyly tried to look down at her toes but they were hidden under churning sand that swirled below the waves. "I really like you, too. Do you know why?"

Fugo couldn't fathom why. He silently shook his head.

His lost expression made Trish grin. "You're also brave. Really smart. And cute… why do you think I approached you first out of everyone else when we first met?" Then her expression turned more thoughtful. "But what really caught my attention is how you've always treated me with respect. To this day, Mista thinks I couldn't hear what he was saying in the back of the van. He isn't very bright sometimes. I was sitting all of two feet from you two as he nearly slapped me in the face with his sweeping, animated gestures while he talked about my boobs."

Fugo stifled an embarrassed laugh. Reliving that moment from another perspective made him see how even more absurd it all was.

Trish released a mixture of a laugh and a sigh. "He did that all while "whispering" to you about how you needed to stop checking me out, but only because of who my father was. Not because it was rude to gawk at my chest and make comments about them as I sat within earshot." Trish huffed. "Honestly, I expected that. I thought if I looked and dressed more like an adult woman, the strange men escorting me would treat me with a little more respect. It's silly, I know. But then I saw you always looking at my face. I saw how angry you were at Mista's "apologies" to me that you were trying to feel me up. You've always cared about treating me well and making me feel comfortable. Since you've been back, you've consistently acted that same respectful way. I've been trying to drop little hints that I like you, but they always go over your head. I wasn't sure if you were purposefully ignoring them or maybe you were more of a dummy than I thought," she playfully splashed a few droplets of water his way.

"You like me? But I had left everyone. I assumed everyone was just being nice when I came back, including you." Fugo said.

"Fugo, how many times do we have to tell you that no one is holding anything against you before you can accept it? I later heard what happened - Buccellati had even told everyone to not come with him. He didn't want to put anyone else in danger, and that included you. Giorno was the one that wanted everyone to come with them. Out of everyone, only Giorno could possibly be mad or disappointed that you left. And I'm pretty sure you've been able to tell he isn't the slightest bit angry with you. You were worried your friends would die because you are a good friend. You stuck with what you believed was the right thing to do, but look, we're all alive! And you should be taking advantage of this fact!"

Trish was right. Then why was it so hard to let go of the past? Trish could be one of the best things that could ever happen to him, but he couldn't stop associating every flirty, physical action to what happened at college. And his friends in Passione who were trying their best to reach out to him were a constant reminder of how he had abandoned them. The guilt sliced daggers into his skull every day, even while everyone around him carried on as if nothing had happened. He thought of Trish, whose father's betrayal hurt her a lot deeper than she let on. She suffered, yet she still moved forward and strengthened the relationships around her. He admired that so much. He wanted to try harder for the sake of the future. His past had damaged him enough and he realized it was in danger of sabotaging his future as well. Fugo decided to do something about it.

"You're right, Trish," Fugo said, his shoulders relaxing as he swam closer to her. He took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze. Trish smiled and squeezed back. "I like you, too. A lot." They stood quietly smiling at each other before Fugo added, "Thank you for this. I feel a lot better." One day, he'd tell her his full story. But right now, he wanted to focus on following the bright path that had just opened up to him.

"I feel better, too," Trish said. "Thank you for screaming with me. It was a lot of fun!" She leaned in close, her voice softening as she said, "We should do this again, sometime." She pushed their hands down at her sides and she stood on her toes to give Fugo a kiss.

Fugo's entire body felt electrified, but he didn't have time to react before a wave crashed into Trish's back and hurled her forward. Fugo grabbed her just in time before the two went under. They surfaced, sputtering and laughing.

"This is the second time you've tripped today!" Fugo pretended to be suspicious. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"No! I can't control the waves!" Trish slapped Fugo's arm playfully. Though the idea caused her to pause. What would happen if Spice Girl used her powers on water? She decided to experiment later. For now, there were more important experiments in progress.


End file.
